


Something Dependable

by Auraspirit157



Series: _The Anarchy of It [2]
Category: Watch Dogs (Video Game)
Genre: Fluffy, M/M, because why not, not really very smuty, pretty much a sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 07:36:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3373199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auraspirit157/pseuds/Auraspirit157
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why does he stay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Dependable

The apartment complex was a quiet place. Not an eerie quiet like a graveyard; a polite absence of sound waves, bordered by polished walls.

Aiden preferred it to the motel from before, but only slightly. It was too nice, too pristine. He could hear his footsteps resonate along with the sheeting rain. It felt…wrong to be there. But, of all things Aiden never regretted anything.

Even for something this arbitrary and needless.

When he arrived at the room he’s looking for he is milliseconds away from turning and retreating without a second thought. He shouldn’t be there. It would complicate things. But he _wanted_ to be there.

He had concluded a long time ago, when he first met these feelings that he finally succumbed to insanity. It is the only circumstance that he could muster to explain why he is standing in front of another door, to another meeting with him.

He knocks.

Three seconds until it opens.

Rather slowly, cautiously it does so. The small form Aiden remembers stands within the opening, looking as if he just bothered to get out of bed. A headset rests around his neck, black hair indented from where they sat before.

“You knock very loud,” Defalt states softly, as if speaking any more would prove him a liar, “So demanding. The beat is very direct.”

Aiden has gotten used to the man’s rather random babblings about beats and rhythms; how they connect to personality. Idiosyncrasies are things Defalt has an abundance of; how his hands twitch when he’s angry—that his eyes dart from place to place, watching every detail so carefully…

“I didn’t know foxes got distracted by prey,” Defalt pipes up slightly, louder, with an influx of overly hinting octaves.

“When hungry,” Aiden plays along regardless, knowing he likes silly wordplay like that.

The younger man smirks, a wicked thing, deadly on most occasions. He turns, “Stop trying to please me. It doesn’t work for you.” He glides back into the apartment, Aiden following behind.

“Would you rather I disappoint you?” He asks as he watches. There is unbridled fluency in his movement, rhythmic, like he is constantly walking through water.

“You only disappoint me when you are not yourself.”

Aiden rolls his eyes, “Right.”

Defalt collapses on a nearby couch, barely taking up half of it, his eyes following Aiden, “Have you slept recently?”

Aiden stands at the foot of the couch, addressing him blankly, “Why?”

“You have dark blotches under your eyes. They make you look older.”

Aiden lowers himself on the couch, energy sapping from him quickly, “I didn’t sleep.”

“Aw…” Defalt sighs, turning his body, his back against him, “Having more nightmares? Still?”  

“They don’t go away,” He says distantly, barely feeling Defalt’s weight, “but nothing has changed.”

“I believe _everything_ has changed,” The younger man curls against him like a feline, his eyes relaxed, a crystalline blue, “ _You_ changed everything.”

“Are we talking about the city or yourself?”

Defalt chuckles, light and airy, slightly stuttered, “When I stole from you, I laughed. I love to see others struggle to gain control. Those Daves…they think they are in control but they squirm like trapped rats when I fuck with them…” he trails off, smiling still, like a child on a playground, “But you…you didn’t hide behind digital masks, you didn’t make empty threats…you went right to me. You hunted me down.”

“So you were _admiring_ me with all those immature taunts. That makes sense.” Aiden says, all of his meaning being sarcasm, though when the words escaped him they became more genuine.

“I was testing you…you’re not a coward. Dedsec…that’s all they are. They’re scared of me,” He laughs, as if the notion was the most ridiculous thing in the world before looking at Aiden again, “You don’t fear me, Fox.”

Around this point in any normal human’s head they would get up and leave. Defalt is beyond any realm of understanding. Nothing normal roams in his head. He is practically unsalvageable in mental soundness. Yet there he sits, staring back at him, “So this is the day you confess you love? I’m flattered, really.”

“Well what is your reasoning, Fox?” Defalt slips into his lap, “How come you stay? You could have run a long time ago. You could have shot me in the head in that parking garage.”

Aiden doesn’t answer immediately. He had lied. Lied to T-bone when he chased Defalt down into that garage. Every fiber, ever muscle and _thought_ told him to shoot the DJ where he sat in the car. But he didn’t. So no…it wasn’t _every single solitary notion_ in his mind to shoot. There was something that appealed to him. There had to be. It would be nonsense if there wasn’t. So what was it? Defalt is…off kilter, obessed with revenge toward a group that rejected him. He is angry, but calculating. Brilliant but insane in every merit.

“I’m _like you_ aren’t I?” Defalt guesses, smirking now, “But you wouldn’t admit that.”

“But I’m not you,” Aiden says almost immediately.

“That doesn’t mean _I_ can’t be like _you.”_ He counters.

“Fine. You remind me of myself,” Aiden decides to say. Just to shut him up.

Defalt’s head tilts, pondering it, “That’s it?”

There is a tinge of irritation in the older man’s voice, “There is supposed to be more?”

“You’re just so…blunt…” Defalt scoffs out the word like it’s the plague. He readjusts his position on Aiden’s lap for around the third time, adding with the same expression, “And as stiff as a fucking board.”

Aiden’s eyes roll to the ceiling at the tonal shift, without relaxing he speaks, “I don’t cuddle. So complain all you want.”

“I told you to relax more! How _dare_ you ignore me?”

Aiden’s head tilts up, his eyes narrow, “Last time you told me to ‘relax’—“

“Fucking doesn’t count?” This is an absolute outrage, according to the criticizing tone in the younger man’s voice. He forcibly grabs Aiden’s arm, pulling it around his shoulders and slumping them both deeper into the couch.

Aiden’s muscles immediately stiffen like a bow strings. Part of him wonders if he simply wants to annoy Defalt. If so he is doing a hell of a job considering the younger man’s icy glare and hilariously pouting lips.

Aiden breaks into a smirk himself, he speaks far slower, “I. Don’t. Cuddle.”  

“At least _try._ You’re really upsetting me…”

It is irritating how much care he felt for the younger man’s emotions. On the other hand, Defalt has proved very dangerous when ‘upset’. Regardless, he had a strange was of getting to Aiden.

“Considering the circumstances we are _both_ in I don’t have time to relax.”

“The monsters aren’t gonna leave the closet every ten seconds.”

“They might.”

“Well they aren’t.” Defalt rolls off, apparently giving up as far as Aiden hopes. The younger man stretches, then watches Aiden carefully, “…I don’t quite know if you love me.”

Aiden watches back steadily despite the second tonal disturbance of the conversation, “I don’t either.”

Defalt’s shoulders sink considerably just as there is a knock at the door. His brow furrows, then he rolls his eyes, gliding away with his usual rhythmic stride.

Aiden stares at where he stood before, a mix of emotions within him. He takes a moment to slack his cautious muscles, closing his eyes experimentally.

Then there was the gun shot.

It took barely longer than a second for Aiden to be at the door. Two men struggle to get a hold of Defalt who dances around them, blood blossoming from his shoulder.

Aiden darts to them, dispatching one with his baton, crushing his skull mercilessly. The other is shot in the head two seconds later.

He hears a willowy laugh, seeing Defalt lean against the wall, a hand gripping his bleeding shoulder.

“Look are you…” he says, it almost echoes, like a ghost, “You got blood everywhere.”

Aiden doesn’t bother responding, he approaches, lifting the younger man up and traversing to the kitchen. Whatever is on the table at the time is viciously shoved off and replaced with Defalt’s small form. He says nothing, pulling off his shirt and inspecting the wound when Defalt pulls his hand away, small fits of laughter escaping him.

“Stop laughing,” Aiden snaps, “This isn’t _funny.”_

“You need to relax.”

Aiden retrieves a first aid kit from the nearest bathroom, “I told you I don’t relax. Shit like this happens when I relax.”

“But I don’t like when you’re so tense,” Defalt closes his eyes, “It makes you look older.”

Aiden doesn’t respond in any logical way, only begins to work feverishly on the wound. He occasionally asks if Defalt is there, in which he would respond in short nods or small musical notes.

By the time Aiden pulls the final bandage he had no understanding of time or place. He leans an elbow on the table, running a hand through his hair despite the blood.

“Defalt?” He says for around the twentieth time since he started.

No answer.

He looks up, “Defalt.”

Aiden shakes him gently, but the younger man is limp.

Frantically, he checks his pulse.

 _“Defalt,”_ Aiden says louder.

Aiden takes a short, tight breath, gripping the edge of the table with tight knuckles, “Jay.”

He listens to silence. He remembers that kind of silence. He _fears_ it more than anything.

There is a shift then. A hand grazes his. He looks up, Defalt looking at him with steady, crystalline eyes, his skin much paler.

“Now I _know_ you love me.” He whispers, propping himself on his elbow, showing little pain as he speaks again, “This table it more comfortable than your lap too.”

Aiden slowly regains his common motor skills, gripping Defalt’s arms, pulling him close, tight enough to bruise him, “What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?”

He doesn’t let him answer, hauling him off the table and collapsing onto the couch, the air smelling like blood and antibacterial.

Defalt curls by him, speaking soft, “You always need someone to protect, Fox.”

Aiden doesn’t care about his words, holding him close, “ _Never_ do that again.”

“I can’t make any promises. Considering the circumstances we are _both_ in.”

Aiden watches the younger man close his eyes again, the proposition of letting go of him far out of his mental state.

_Something to protect._

Aiden relaxes fully, letting Defalt’s body sync with his. He speaks to himself, “Fair enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> So here is a funny story: I was going to have Defalt die. Seriously, it was right on the tip of my pencil and I would have no shame in it.  
> But I couldn't get myself to, I thought this was more...fitting.  
> Anyway, I kinda wrote this on a whim because, as I said in the tags, why not? Their relationship that I cobbled together with bits of circuitry and smutty garbage is quite enjoyable to write.  
> So tell me what you think! Love you all.


End file.
